


but i will hold on hope (i won't let you choke)

by staticpetrichor



Series: geraskier snippets [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Tumblr Prompt, gay ass love, geralt is SOFT, jaskier has anxiety, this is a tender one folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticpetrichor/pseuds/staticpetrichor
Summary: based off the tumblr prompt:“Take a deep breath.”“It hurts.”“I know, but you have to breathe.”title from the mumford and sons song the cave!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: geraskier snippets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672132
Comments: 5
Kudos: 304





	but i will hold on hope (i won't let you choke)

A shiver ran through the bed frame and just like that Geralt was wide-awake, head snapping towards his lover. Jaskier was slumped forward beside him. Chest pressed against his knees and breaths coming in short, desperate pants. 

Without thinking, the witcher’s hand rested softly between the bard’s shoulderblades, thumb swiping an arc over the delicate skin there, “Easy, little lark. Nice and slow now, I’ve got you.” 

“M’fine.” Jaskier forced out, hand flapping in dismissal, as a whimper disfigured his words and colored them in truth.

Geralt hummed softly, his free hand cupping the other man’s jaw firmly enough that he lifted a flushed cheek and turned tear-filled eyes his way. Something in the witcher’s chest ached at the unfairness of that pain even as he moved to lessen it. 

“Slow and steady, love. Take a deep breath,” 

“It _hurts_.” Jaskier bit out, hands dropping from where they were wrapped around his legs only to fist in the inn’s thin sheets. 

“I know, but you have to breathe.” He knew it was getting bad, had seen the tension in the bard’s shoulders grow tauter and tauter. And now it had snapped. A violent sort of thing that left his chest hollow and lungs tight, that made everything dimmer and darker.

The sort of thing that polished the world’s sharp edges and set fire to its cushions. 

He waited, traced nonsensical shapes along Jas’ jaw. Because he wasn’t good at words. Wasn’t sure what to say to make it all quiet. But _touching,_ touching was a reassurance he could offer. Finally, Jaskier shuddered and sunk into Geralt’s chest, nose brushing along his collarbone in a damp mess of hot breath and stinging tears. 

It took only a few moments, for their breaths to harmonize, for the awful shaking to slow to a barely-there tremor. Which meant-

“I’m sorry, I uh, I don’t know… I don’t know why I keep doing that.” 

Which meant now his bard would apologize. As if holding him while he hurt was something that _upset_ Geralt. Like he needed forgiveness for falling apart. 

Gritting his teeth against whatever it was that made Jaskier feel the need to say sorry, Geralt simply murmured, “No apologies. Not about this.” 

Huffing, Jaskier tilted his head back so he could meet the witcher’s gaze, “It’s stupid, Geralt. I shouldn’t have a full-blown break down every other fucking day.” 

“Stop that. You know it isn’t stupid.” 

“Do I?” He laughed humorlessly, a fist rubbing too harshly at red-rimmed eyes.

“I would hope so. I know it’s…hard to believe sometimes, and that’s okay. I can remind you.” 

“You shouldn’t have to!” 

“But what if I wanted to?” 

And that seemed to throw him. Jaskier’s brows furrowed, petal-soft mouth tugging down at the corners, “Do you?” 

“Of course, Jas. You should know by now that I don’t do anything I don’t want to.”

The bard scowled softly, but couldn’t hide the relief that lit up his clever grey eyes. Muttering something about pigheaded witchers who didn’t know what was good for them, he laid back down, exhaustion slowing his movements.

“We still have a few hours before sunrise,” Geralt offered, fingers twisting in Jaskier’s curls lightly, ignoring the heat that flooded his stomach as the bard’s eyes fluttered with pleasure. 

“Is that your subtle way of telling me to go back to sleep?”

With a grunt of exasperation, the witcher leaned down and kissed his lover soundly, silencing any further protest and eliciting a devilishly pleased smirk from the other man. 

Geralt knew he’d most definitely played right into the bard’s game but if it chased away some of the shadows in his eyes, if it gave him back that smile, why in the hell wouldn’t he?


End file.
